They’d reached the crowded sidewalk in front of Berry’s Bar. “Sure,” Maya said, realizing that the idea of getting together with the gorgeous, sexy man to talk appealed more than a little. But...could it be risky? She hoped not. Should she back off? That wasn’t her.
What they would talk about might only rev up the controversy she knew was there.
* * *
Ryan saw Piers as soon as he entered behind Maya, with Rocky at his side. He’d told his aide to get here ahead of him and save some seats.
Were dogs allowed in here? If questioned, he would just claim that Rocky was his service dog. He even had paperwork in his pocket that would confirm that—if the person asking didn’t dig too deeply.
Inhaling the strong, predictable scent of alcohol, he waved, and Piers waved back, gesturing for him to join the group sitting on stools at the bar. Ryan therefore maneuvered through the crowd—and away from Maya.
Which in some ways he hated to do.
The woman was beautiful and sassy and loved wild animals. What wasn’t there to like about her?
The fact that she might be putting herself—and his role here—in danger?
Could be. That was why he had asked her to back off.
Sure, there was likely to be attention regarding each new wolf sighting around here, especially if they continued and grew in numbers. But he needed a bit of quiet in his own search regarding the inherent nature of those incoming wolves, not people talking and arguing, or worse.
And he didn’t get the sense Maya would pay any attention to him.
“What’s wrong?” Piers asked quietly as he reached the bar.
“Nothing, I hope.” But his aide knew him well. “We’ll talk later,” he amended.
“Fine.”
Ryan ordered a dark beer, which was also what Piers had in front of him. He decided to confront the situation of Rocky right off and requested that the bartender, a sizable fellow with a full head of hair and a beard, bring a bowl of water.
“Sure thing,” the bartender said. “Nice-looking dog. Is he yours?”
More or less, Ryan thought. He certainly treated his cover dog as his own. “Yep,” he said. “Rocky is one really good boy.”
“I bet.” When the bartender brought a metal bowl half-filled with water to the customer side of the bar and laid it at Ryan’s feet—next to several pairs of feet belonging to other patrons—the guy asked, “Have you ever been to Fritts Corner before?”
“No, though I really like this place.” He was laying it on a bit thick, but what the heck? “I’m here because of the latest wolf sightings. I work for US Fish and Wildlife.”
“Really?” The bartender’s whole, round face lit up. “Were you at the talk at the park before? I was here working, but I heard about it.”
“I sure was.” Why not go for broke—maybe lay into some of Maya’s contentious ground? “There were some arguments. Not everyone is glad there are wolf sightings around here. How about you?”
“I’m definitely for them,” the guy said with no hesitation. He held out his hand to Ryan to shake. “I’m Buck Lesterman. My family recently bought Berry’s Bar, and I’m happy with everything to do with wildlife.”
Which was what Ryan had been looking for. Was this guy a shifter? Were any members of his family?
Or was Ryan just hoping too hard to find some evidence of shifters in this area?
Could be that all the recent wolf sightings were just that—sightings of actual wolves. Well, he would know more tonight.
“Glad to meet you, Buck. I’m Ryan, and this is my friend Piers.” They shook hands, too, then Ryan continued, “Not sure how long I’ll be in town, but I’m glad I’ve found this place.”
“Hey, bartender!” called a guy nearby.
“’Scuse me,” Buck said. “Got to get back to work.”
That was when Ryan heard voices raised behind him, and he turned.
Maya sat at a table, hands on her hips. Across from her were the three people who’d come onstage to give her a hard time, and they didn’t appear any friendlier.
Time for Piers and him—and Rocky, too—to join her.
As they moved in her direction, so did a few other people Ryan believed he recognized as having been at her talk.
Were they for, or against, her position?
* * *
This discussion was getting out of control. Too bad Maya couldn’t have just invited the people from her talk that she wanted to come here.
Fortunately, some of the people who’d been on her side were in the crowd, too. In fact, the tall, skinny fellow who’d been at the front and called out something favorable had made his way through the people who were giving her a hard time. Now, standing beside her table, he waved at her and asked, “Can I buy you a snack to go with your drink?” His brown eyes were open wide beneath shaggy blond brows, and his huge smile looked hopeful.
“Thanks,” she said, facing him and using the opportunity to look away from the others, “but I’m good.” She appreciated that he’d been on her side, yet she felt a bit uncomfortable under his happy stare—even though it was way preferable to the potential argument that had just started.
“You certainly are,” he said. He held out his hand. “I’m Trevor Garlona. Trev. And I want to know all about you and WHaM.”
“Thanks,” she said. “But—”
“Hey, I’m talking to you.” The voice across from her sounded familiar—the woman who’d just challenged her. “Don’t you ignore me. And why are you even still in town?”
Maya turned again in her seat just a little. She had already recognized the woman who had confronted her after her talk. That woman now stood at the opposite end of the table from where Maya sat with a glass of wine in front of her. Some other people who’d been at her presentation had just gone up to the bar to order their drinks.
That guy who’d introduced himself as Trev moved in the direction she now faced, although other people, including that woman, didn’t get out of his way. He squeezed in and looked at her, though, from behind them and raised his glass of beer as if toasting her.
She didn’t toast him back, but neither did she try to get away. Not yet, at least.
She felt a little relieved to notice that Ryan had joined her, too, and stood at her side. She wished he’d come here sooner. Despite his attitude before against how she worked, she wanted to spend more time with the great-looking guy. Talk to him more about wildlife.
Especially now, while she was being confronted again. What was this woman’s name? Vinnie? Vinnie Fritts, wife of a man who had the same name as this town and whose family had apparently lived here a long time, had maybe even founded it.
She wasn’t that old, though—maybe midforties. Her hair was a wavy mass of brown that appeared cut and styled to remain exactly so on her head. She wore bright pink lipstick and dark-rimmed glasses. Surprisingly, the whole package went well together.
Now, if she only had a sense of consideration of others and their opinions...
“Do you have any pets at home?” Maya countered, focusing on Vinnie. “Or small children?” She took a sip of her dry white wine in an attempt to bolster her floundering courage but it didn’t help. At least she didn’t think